Transfer Deadline Day was unlike any other day in the football calendar.

For Michael Sterling it was usually a day of stress. But this year it felt different.

He sat in his office at the Sterling Era Training Complex. The rain was hammering against the glass. It was a proper Yorkshire storm.

Arthur Milton was sitting on the floor. He was surrounded by pizza boxes. He was wearing a bright yellow tie.

"Why the yellow tie Arthur?" Michael asked looking up from his laptop.

"It is tradition Boss," Arthur said chewing a slice of pepperoni. "On TV the reporters wear yellow. I want to feel part of the drama. Plus it matches the cheese."

Michael smiled. The team was strong. They had started the season well. They had money in the bank.

But Michael felt an itch.

He looked at the squad list on the wall.

DEFENDERS: Diego Nunez. Benjamin Pavard. Tom. Enzo Silva (Emergency).

It was good. But was it enough for Europe? They had games in Kazakhstan and Finland. They had freezing nights and hostile crowds. They needed steel. They needed someone who had seen everything.

Michael opened the System interface on his laptop.

[SQUAD ANALYSIS]

[LEADERSHIP: HIGH]

[AGGRESSION: VERY HIGH]

[EXPERIENCE IN DARK ARTS: MODERATE]

"We need a master of the dark arts," Michael whispered. "Someone who knows how to win when the football is ugly."

Arthur looked up.

"We have Jamie Vardy," Arthur said. "He is very annoying."

"Jamie is an attacker," Michael said. "I need a general at the back. Someone to stand next to Diego and tell him who to eat."

Michael typed a name into the search bar.

He hesitated. It was a crazy idea. It was impossible.

But the Misfits specialized in the impossible.

He typed: SERGIO RAMOS.

The profile loaded.

NAME: SERGIO RAMOS

AGE: 39

STATUS: FREE AGENT

CLUBS: REAL MADRID. PSG. SEVILLA.

TROPHIES: EVERYTHING.

RED CARDS: A LOT.

"Arthur," Michael said slowly. "Pass me the phone."

The phone rang for a long time. Michael imagined the person on the other end was riding a horse on a ranch in Seville enjoying the sun.

"Hola?" a deep voice answered. It sounded like gravel being crushed.

"Sergio," Michael said. "This is Michael Sterling. Manager of Barnsley."

There was a silence.

"Barnsley?" the voice said. "The team with the crazy bald man? The one who eats sausages in the chocolate fountain?"

"Yes," Michael laughed. "That is us."

"I saw the video," Ramos said. He sounded amused. "He has spirit. Why are you calling me Michael Sterling? Do you want to buy a horse?"

"I want you to come to England," Michael said. "I want you to join the Misfits."

Ramos laughed. It was a dry laugh.

"I am retired Michael. Or almost. I am old. My knees have played a thousand games. I have won the World Cup. I have won the Champions League four times. What can Barnsley give me?"

Michael looked out the window at the rain. He saw the new stadium rising in the distance.

"We cannot give you sun Sergio," Michael admitted. "We cannot give you the Bernabeu."

He leaned forward.

"But we can give you a fight."

The line went quiet.

"A fight?" Ramos asked.

"Everyone else wants you to be a mascot," Michael said. "They want you to go to America or Saudi Arabia and wave at the fans. They want you to be gentle."

Michael paused for effect.

"I want you to be a monster. I want you to come here and teach my team how to suffer. I want you to stand next to Diego Nunez and scare the strikers of the Premier League until they cry."

"Diego Nunez," Ramos said the name tasting it. "He is raw. He is strong. But he needs a teacher."

"He needs a Matador," Michael said.

"And the money?" Ramos asked.

"We have money," Michael said. "We sold a lot of pink boots. But we pay in passion. And steak. We have very good steak."

There was a long pause. Michael could hear Arthur chewing loudly in the background.

"English football is hard," Ramos said softly. "It is cold. It is fast."

"It is perfect for a warrior," Michael said. "One last dance Sergio. Not for the money. But for the blood."

"For the blood," Ramos repeated.

"I will send the plane," Michael said.

Five hours later the media center was packed.

It was 10 PM. The transfer window closed at 11 PM.

The journalists were tired. They had spent the day reporting on loans to Ipswich and sales to Everton. They wanted to go home.

Then the door opened.

Michael Sterling walked in. He was wearing his purple silk GODFATHER jacket.

Behind him walked a man wearing sunglasses at night. He had a beard that looked carved from stone. He wore a denim jacket and boots.

The room gasped.

Camera flashes exploded like fireworks.

"No way," a journalist from the BBC whispered. "No way."

Sergio Ramos sat down. He took off his sunglasses. His eyes were intense.

"Good evening," Ramos said in English. "Sorry I am late. The traffic in the sky was bad."

Michael sat next to him.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Michael announced. "We needed a leader. We found a legend. Welcome to Barnsley Sergio Ramos."

A hand went up.

"Sergio! Why Barnsley? You could have gone anywhere!"

Ramos leaned into the microphone.

"I have won many gold medals," Ramos said. "But I have never won the Conference League. My collection is incomplete."

The room laughed.

"Also," Ramos added his face serious. "I want to play with the Bull. I want to see if he is as crazy as the internet says."

THE MEETING OF THE BULLS

After the press conference Michael took Ramos to the locker room.

The squad was waiting. They had heard the rumors. They were sitting in their places looking nervous. Even Jamie Vardy looked impressed.

"Hola lads," Ramos said walking in.

"Legend," Isaiah King whispered. "He is actually here. I used to play as him on FIFA."

Ramos walked around the room. He shook hands with Danny Fletcher. He nodded at Enzo Silva. He high fived Jan Visser.

Then he reached the corner.

Diego Nunez was standing there.

The giant Uruguayan was wearing his training kit. He looked massive.

Ramos was not small but Diego was a tower.

The room went silent. It was like watching two apex predators meet in the wild.

Ramos looked up at Diego.

Diego looked down at Ramos.

"You have tattoos," Diego said pointing at Ramos arms.

"I have many," Ramos said. "They tell the story of my life."

Diego nodded.

"I have no tattoos," Diego said. "My skin is too hard. The needles break."

Ramos smiled. A real genuine smile.

"I believe you," Ramos said.

He extended his hand.

"I am Sergio."

Diego took the hand. He squeezed. Ramos squeezed back. His veins popped. Neither man flinched.

"I am Diego," the Bull said. "I saw you tackle Messi on TV. It was beautiful."

"Messi is now a manager," Ramos said. "We cannot tackle him anymore. It is sad."

"We can tackle his players," Diego suggested.

"Yes," Ramos agreed. "We will tackle his players together."

"Brothers," Diego decided. He pulled Ramos into a hug.

Ramos patted the giant back.

"He smells like beef," Ramos said to the room.

"It is the cologne," Michael said quickly. "Eau de Steak."

THE TRAINING GROUND

The next morning the world was talking about Barnsley. Again.

THE GALACTICO IN YORKSHIRE

RAMOS JOINS THE MISFITS

PREMIER LEAGUE STRIKERS IN FEAR

Michael stood on the training pitch. The rain had stopped leaving a fresh crisp morning.

Ramos was wearing the purple training kit. It looked strange but also right.

He was warming up with Enzo Silva.

"You run a lot," Ramos told the Pitbull. "Save your energy. Let the ball run."

"I cannot stop!" Enzo shouted sprinting past him. "My legs have demons!"

"We will fix that," Ramos laughed.

Michael watched them. He felt the phone in his pocket buzz.

[SQUAD UPDATE]

[NEW TRAIT UNLOCKED: THE IRON CURTAIN]

[COMBINATION: RAMOS AND NUNEZ]

[EFFECT: OPPONENT FEAR INCREASED BY 50 PERCENT]

[WARNING: DISCIPLINARY RECORD MAY SUFFER]

"Disciplinary record," Michael chuckled. "We might need a bigger budget for red card fines."

Arthur came over. He was eating a croissant.

"He looks good Boss," Arthur said. "He moves like a dancer. A dancer who kills people."

"He is the final piece Arthur," Michael said. "We have the energy of the youth. And now we have the wisdom of the ancient warrior."

"He is only thirty nine," Arthur said. "He is not ancient. He is just... vintage."

On the pitch a ball flew high into the air.

Diego Nunez and Sergio Ramos both jumped for it.

"MINE!" Diego roared.

"MIO!" Ramos shouted.

They collided in the air.

THUD.

It sounded like two cars crashing.

They landed on the grass.

The whole squad stopped. Michael held his breath.

Diego sat up. He rubbed his bald head.

Ramos sat up. He rubbed his shoulder.

Then they both started laughing.

"Good hit!" Diego shouted. "You are hard like a rock!"

"You have a head like a hammer!" Ramos replied.

They helped each other up.

"Did you see that?" Jamie Vardy asked Leo Stone. "That is how you defend. You just run into things until they stop moving."

Leo Stone nodded his eyes wide. "I will try to stay away from them in training."

"Smart kid," Jamie said.

Michael walked back to his office.

The transfer window was closed. The squad was set. He had started with a broken team in League One.

Now he had a team with pink boots and golden auras and teenage phantoms. And now a Real Madrid legend was anchoring the defense.

He sat at his desk. He looked at the tiny knitted baby shoes on the shelf.

He picked up the phone and called Sarah.

"Hello?" Sarah answered.

"We did it," Michael said. "We got him."

"Is he scary?" Sarah asked.

"He is terrifying," Michael said happily. "But I think he is going to like it here."

"Does he know about the baby?"

"Not yet," Michael said. "But Diego is already planning to make him the second Godfather."

"Two Godfathers?" Sarah laughed. "That baby will be the safest child in England."

Michael hung up.

He looked out of the window.

Ramos and Diego were doing push ups on the wet grass. They were competing.

"One hundred!" Diego shouted.

"One hundred and one!" Ramos counted back.

Michael Sterling leaned back in his chair.

"Welcome to the madhouse Sergio," he whispered. "Try not to break anything."

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